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A Veil of Prophecy
Chapter 9
A few years later…
The Red Keep was silent. Peacefully silent, one might think. Eerily silent, Dunk thought.
"I'm telling you, something might have happened to her. She's been out for so long. Maybe one of you should go and look for her."
Both knights of the Kingsguard stared at him with identical expressions of horrified shock. "Leave out duty?" Ser Benal exclaimed. "Not for the world. And besides, we are not spies stealing on Her Grace's steps. If she wanted us to accompany her, she would have told us so."
Dunk stared at them and tried to come out with an answer. They were right, Aelinor must have passed right past them saying nothing. And still… when he had spotted her from the courtyard, she'd been clad only in a thick mantle that could not offer protection from cold for too long. The winter had come and it was unusually harsh. And the Queen Dowager had not returned to her chambers or at least, he hadn't seen her doing it.
It was a great impudence to meddle into her business but he couldn't help it. It's been way too long. "Then wake up the King."
Now they gaped at him as if he had completely lost his wits. Maybe he had. And what of it? He was Dunk the lunk, never the brightest among knights. His noble impulses never failed to get him in trouble and they would surely do it this time, too.
"You… you want us to intrude on His Grace when he's sleeping?" Ser Mylas asked in disbelief.
Dunk was starting to lose his patience. "I want you to possibly save Her Grace's life! It's freezing cold out there. And if she tripped somewhere in this icy keep, does she strike you as someone who can actually rise?"
The white knights looked at each other, still hesitant. "What do you think the King will do if something happens to the Queen because you were so respectful of his sleep?" Dunk pressed.
Their quarrel was carried out in low voices, but the echo in the vast silent Red Keep was all too strong; a moment later, there was the sound of movement at the other side of the thick oak door and Maekar opened it, his eyes still bleary. "What's wrong?" he asked the Kingsguard. "Who are you talking to?"
Faced with the fact that the King had obviously been sleeping, Dunk felt suddenly embarrassed and cursed his stupid chivalrous impulse and, in fact, the very restlessness that had kept him awake and in the courtyard. Dunk the lunk had did it again, presented himself as a full-fledged fool. Aelinor was probably sound and safe in the great bed, wondering what had roused Maekar. Or she might have gone to her one time chambers, abandoned now that she lived with the King. Or…
"I am sorry, Your Grace," he stammered. "I was worried about the Queen and…"
"The Queen?" Maekar asked and frowned. "She's in the other room, she often does that when she's in pain, so she can pace without disturbing me…"
His last words came out faintly since he was already at the door of the adjacent chamber. He turned back, stunned. "She isn't here," he said. "How…?"
„I saw her going out quite a while ago," Dunk said. "She wasn't dressed for a long stay away from the fireplace and I…"
The change in Maekar's expression was so sudden that Dunk's words froze in his throat. A long forgotten memory came to life, all too vivid. Once, she spent a whole night outside, in the snow, Egg had said. That's why she's lame in one leg. The condition had gotten worse with age and the thought that something like that might happen again clearly terrified Maekar.
"Where? Where did she go?" the King asked sharply, grabbing the first mantle he saw. "Go on, go on and show me the way. And you two." He suddenly turned to the Kingsguard. "You are not coming along. Stoke the embers, make a fire for when we come back."
Without looking back, he followed Dunk. In less than a minute, they were both freezing cold. After the long hot summer the harsh winter seemed all more colder. Their feet were becoming stiff in the boots. "It's so cold," Maekar murmured, as if speaking to himself. "If she's been out for more than a few minutes…"
She had. Dunk silently cursed himself for not going to the King's chambers as soon as he thought that Aelinor was taking too long to come back.
And then, he saw her. She was slumped against a tall hedge, as pale and frail as the snowflakes falling over her.
"Aelinor!" Maekar cried out and scooped her up, wrapping her in the mantle he took off from his shoulders. Her face was blue, her hands icy to the touch but her eyes were alive, full of gratitude and then full of pain. She tried to draw back but she had no more strength than a cat. "For the Seven's sakes, Aelinor, stay put!" he snapped and carried her back to their bedchamber that was now crowded with attendants. In the fireplace, there was a huge fire but when he tried to place her in front of it, she gave a faint whimper and tried to cling to him, as if the warmth caused her pain.
"Get the Grand Maester!" he barked. "And stop bawling, all of you! We just need to get her warm. Draw her a hot bath."
"No," Ser Galend spoke and everyone looked at him, surprised. Nonplussed, he went to the Queen and felt her forehead. "She's too cold. I've seen such things happening in Dorne. Her body won't be able to regain its warmth by itself. And hot hurts her skin."
Maekar understood. The body warmth came from within, all outer sources just helped it. But they could not replace it. Aelinor would die if…
"Covers," he said.
Ser Galend shook his head. "That won't be enough. And hot tea… no, she won't have the energy to drink it."
"Then what?" Maekar snapped, furious at him for being so calm and rational when the one who meant the world to Maekar was dying right next to them.
"Use your warmth."
"What? I don't understand."
"Use the warmth of your body! Get her warm!"
This time, Maekar understood. "Everyone out!" he ordered and started undressing Aelinor. His fingers slid on her wet mantle and he cursed, grabbed the dagger of Valyrian steel on the nearest table and cut all fabrics through before placing her on the bed. She was shaking. "Maekar, I am cold," she whispered while he was throwing his own garments in a heap on the carpet.
She felt like ice next to him under all the covers he had wrapped around them; with a sinking feeling, he thought that he wouldn't be able to bring warmth back to her body – she was literally like an ice cube. She could not even shake. He held her close despite the pain his touch caused to her chilling skin and kissed her cheeks, neck and shoulders, trying to melt her against him and praying that he'd overcome the need to shake her hard and scream in her face that she was the biggest fool ever having walked this earth. No, it wasn't her. It was me. I destroy everything I touch. Gods, don't punish me through her, don't do this. He chased away these thoughts. For now, getting her warm was his priority. And when she started breathing more easily, when she finally stared shaking, meaning that her body had regained the ability to generate warmth, and didn't feel so cold to the touch anymore, he touched her face and murmured, "It seems that the day Aegon found this big knight of his was a good day for all of us."
"Yes," she agreed, trying to touch his cheek and failing. He leaned his head closer to her fingers and she fell asleep against him – or maybe she lost conscience, he couldn't quite say even as he held her even closer with the strength of his relief. She was exhausted and in pain but here. Alive.
The next day…
For first time since ascending to the Iron Throne, Maekar cut the meeting of the Small Council. Aelinor had woken up, thankfully not partly paralyzed which was their biggest fear but in serious pain anyway. He didn't feel that he could put up with the petty squabbles of grown men fighting like bratty children. Besides, Aelinor had given enough to the Seven Kingdoms. Now, the Seven Kingdoms could wait.
Not Jaehaerys, though. As soon as he had satisfied himself that Aelinor was on her way to recovery, he caught his grandfather's hand and led him in the adjacent chamber, leaving the Queen with Rhae.
"What's the matter, Jaehaerys?" Maekar asked. Jaehaerys was too serious, even for him – and a little scared.
"Grandfather, did you kill your brother?" the boy asked without preamble.
Maekar didn't flinch – sooner or later, the children would hear about that. "Yes, I did."
"Because he would have never allowed you to live with Aunt Aelinor?"
Maekar stopped dead in his tracks and looked down. "So, that's what they are saying now? And what it was that you heard?"
"They are saying that King Daeron was a good and just man who wouldn't put up with the sin of adultery on your part so you had to keep yourselves in check. That Aerys would have happily turned a blind eye at your relationship but had Baelor become king, he would have never tolerated it and he would have never let you take Aunt Aelinor to your bed the way you did. That you killed him because of that."
"Who says this?"
"Servants. Courtiers. Not to my face, though. But I am neither blind nor deaf."
"No, you aren't," Maekar agreed. "You are very clever."
Twenty years had passed – twenty years in which Maekar had never explained himself to anybody over Baelor's death. But to his surprise, Jaehaerys' accusation stung him. At the same time, he recognized his grandson's boldness in actually asking the question. No one else never had. He sighed and motioned at the boy to sit down. "Come on," he said. "You can ask me all questions that are troubling you. And I'll do something I never did for anyone else. I will give you answers."
